


every kiss is a cursive line

by alljustrunaways



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-10-21 11:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17641811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alljustrunaways/pseuds/alljustrunaways
Summary: a series of kiss prompts requested ontumblr.





	1. you're what i couldn't find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from dreams by the cranberries (a beautiful song) ♥

After a particularly hectic first two days of their relationship, the days that follow are surprisingly calm and mundane. Insecurities and fears are traded for heated make-out sessions on couches, heart attacks and violations of appropriate workplace conduct are replaced with ordering pizza and watching movies.

 

In many ways, it’s the typical beginning of a relationship; things are a little awkward at work and Amy feels a swarm of butterflies erupt in her stomach whenever he leans in to kiss her or walks into the room.

 

But it’s also _nothing_ like any four-day relationship Amy’s ever experienced. It makes sense - she’s spent the better part of every day with him for years - that it feels remarkably normal and right to be with Jake, but she’s still marvelling at how easily their hands fit together and how natural it feels to spend evenings at his apartment.

 

It’s so natural that she doesn’t second guess staying at Jake’s apartment for the third consecutive night (or agreeing to sleep in with him since it’s their day off, _or_ suggesting they go for brunch before he drives her home.) The “light and breezy” philosophy is already long-abandoned.

 

“Oh my god, Santiago, this is a _travesty_ ,” Jake exclaims as the car comes to a halt in the midday traffic, turning a dial and sending a blast of cool air out of the dusty vents.

 

It’s a gorgeous yet sweltering Saturday afternoon, and the crappy air conditioner in Jake’s old Mustang is no match for the sun beating down on them. Even in a t-shirt and cropped jeans, Amy “Always Cold” Santiago is starting to break a sweat.

 

“I wouldn’t call me not knowing every single word to a Taylor Swift song a travesty,” Amy retorts, rolling her eyes with a smile on her face. “I knew most of them!”

 

“Yeah, but it’s not just some Taylor Swift song, Amy, it’s _Love Story_! Honestly, this might be a deal breaker for me.”

 

Amy swats his arm, laughing as he winces and mutters something about how deeply he regrets sharing his waffles with her now that he knows she’s a “fake fan” of the “greatest artist of the twenty-first century”.

 

She has to admit, when she once stated that being one of the girls in this car was her worst nightmare, she hadn’t envisioned laughter that makes her stomach hurt and kisses that make her brain short-circuit.

 

“Alright, milady, we have arrived at your destination,” Jake says in his best attempt at a posh accent as he pulls up in front of Amy’s apartment and puts the car into park. “Don’t forget to give me five stars.”

 

Amy smiles warmly at him as she secures her bag over her shoulder and places her hand on the door handle.

 

“See you at work tomorrow?”

 

“Yep.”

 

She doesn’t know who leans in first - they meet almost exactly halfway - but it’s entirely reflexive. Absolutely no thought goes into the placement of her hand on his cheek and the chaste press of her lips against his.

 

She doesn’t think about it at all until she closes her front door behind her and leans back against it like the protagonist of a romantic comedy, completely enamoured with a man after only _four days_.

 

(To be fair, she’s been _secretly_ enamoured with him for over a year.)

 

If she’s this comfortable kissing and loudly singing in the car and stuffing her face with pancakes in front of him after four days, if she’s already made more emotional progress with him than any boyfriend in the past five years, there is no doubt in her mind of four facts:

 

One - she is royally screwed;

 

Two - she is completely terrified;

 

Three - she is happier than she’s ever been;

 

And four - like the soda stain on the passenger seat of her car and the hideous blue dress still hanging in her closet, it is entirely Jake Peralta’s fault.

 

(The fifth realization when he walks into work the next morning with a wide smile and a coffee for her - that she may be falling in love - is pushed to the back of her brain for the time being.)


	2. making my life much greener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 27\. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.  
> and  
> 3\. Drunk/sloppy kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from sexual by neiked (it's quite fitting)

Amy isn’t sure if Jake pulling off her surprise party without a hitch is the result of three years of being with her or an abundance of help from their friends, but she’s completely clueless until they walk into their apartment after dinner at her favourite restaurant and she turns the light on, revealing a flawlessly decorated living room and all of her friends shouting “surprise!”

 

She’s already two drinks deep from dinner, and Rosa quickly ushers her to the kitchen for a round of tequila shots from the fancy bottle she and Gina got her. Less than twenty minutes pass before Charles is offering her a beer along with some strange squid-based appetizer he prepared, and she happily accepts both by virtue of her exceedingly good mood.

 

Kylie is talking to her about the new filing tabs she just got at work by the time the fourth drink hits her. Despite the enticing conversation with her best friend, her eyes follow Jake as he exits the bathroom and takes a seat in the armchair next to Terry.

 

It’s not her fault, really, that her friends have gotten her to this level of intoxication this quickly, or that he’s wearing her favourite shirt on him, or that some combination of her husband’s thoughtfulness all day and how extremely attractive he is is driving her crazy.

 

“Gotta go,” she mumbles to Kylie, slamming her empty bottle down on the coffee table - _without_ a coaster - in a moment of blind determination to get to her husband as quickly as possible.

 

Jake makes a small sound of surprise as she stops at his chair and drops herself gracelessly onto his lap, winding her arms around his neck.

 

“Uh oh,” Gina mutters from the couch, sipping her cocktail and settling in to watch with amusement. “The return of four-drink Amy.”

 

Jake rolls his eyes and winds an arm around Amy’s waist, rubbing her back in comforting circles. “You okay, babe?”

 

The world is a little blurry, but she can make out his creased forehead and concerned gaze.

 

“More than okay,” she smirks. “I think it’s time for my birthday present.”

 

“But I already-“

 

Amy does her best to raise her eyebrows in a suggestive manner, her hand leaving his shoulder to stroke the inside of his thigh.

 

“ _Oh_.” Jake’s cheeks redden, which only makes him markedly more adorable, and he gently takes her hand off his leg and holds it in his own. “Babe. We have a ton of people over and it’s only, like, nine-thirty.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“Ames, we can’t just disappear to our bedroom at the same-”

 

His voice is her favourite sound in the world, but she’s officially reached the limit for how long she can watch his lips move without feeling them on her own. She leans in and smashes their lips together, her mouth already open and ready for a full-on make out that Jake is considerably less prepared for.

 

He doesn’t pull away, though, so she takes advantage of the opportunity to slide her tongue into his mouth and run her fingers through his slightly grown-out curls. She’s only human, so it’s quite understandable, in her opinion, that she lets out a small moan as Jake deepens the kiss, resulting in a chorus of complaints from the rest of the room.

 

“I know it’s Amy’s birthday and you two are still in the honeymoon phase like three months after your wedding, but _c’mon,_ guys,” Terry groans. “At least try to keep it a little PG.”

 

“Sorry, guys,” Jake apologizes sincerely to everyone except a grinning Charles and his horny wife, who is still making an attempt to continue kissing him. His hands guide her waist off of his lap to sit next to him in the chair instead.

 

“I’m not sorry,” she whispers, her lips ghosting over his earlobe. “You are so…so hot.”

 

Jake laughs softly, and she can tell by the way he’s awkwardly shifting around that he’s having a hard time being the voice of reason. “You’re hot too, babe.”

 

“You know,” Charles cuts in, nudging Terry over to sit closer to the couple. “If you guys conceive a child tonight, it’ll be a Gemini. Just like me and Jake!”

 

It’s _just_ enough to kill the mood, even in Amy’s state of inebriation. They’ve only been married for three months, she needs a little more time to enjoy her husband before they think about kids (preferably without Charles’ involvement).

 

She retreats to the kitchen to get another drink and continue socializing with their party guests, but ends up back on Jake’s lap about two hours later and remains there until the last of their friends has left and she’s all but fallen asleep on his shoulder.

 

“You wanna go to bed, honey?” Jake asks softly, his hand stroking her hair as it has been since she sat down.

 

Amy, completely exhausted and no longer feeling an intense desire to rip her husband’s clothes off, nods against his chest and holds onto his shirt as he gets to his feet and shuffles off to their bedroom with her in his arms.

 

The last memory she has of the night is her head hitting the soft pillows, but she wakes the next morning with her pajamas on, her makeup taken off and a glass of water and Advil by the bed.

 

There’s a sticky note on the glass, which Amy puts her glasses on to read:

 

_went to pick up stuff for breakfast in bed before we have dessert ;)_

 

She sinks back into the bed and sighs with contentment and absolute certainty that she’s the luckiest woman alive.


	3. don't go sharing your devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 26\. A jealous kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from lay all your love on me by abba

Amy wakes to the incessant beeping of the alarm clock on the nightstand, programmed to go off a few minutes before the backup ones on her phone.

 

While leaning over to hit snooze, feeling oddly sleep-deprived, she realizes a few things.

 

Despite it being Monday, she’s tangled up in blue sheets instead of white ones, meaning she’s violated her rule of always staying at her own apartment on Sunday nights to ensure that she’s well-rested for the beginning of the new week. She recalls being coerced into staying one more night after an incredible weekend (she hasn’t actually gone home at all in three days). She also recalls staying up way too late last night, reinforcing her reason for the Sunday night rule - a rule that Jake despises and attempts to break every week with about a fifty percent success rate.

 

She does _not_ understand why she’s alone in the blue sheets when the sole reason that she sleeps in a less comfortable bed in a less clean apartment and gets dressed for work out of a duffel bag half the time is so that she _doesn’t_ wake up alone now that she knows there’s something so much better. In a matter of weeks, waking up to messy brown hair, a warm chest pressed against her back and soft snoring in her ear has become a crucial part of her nearly everyday routine, and her days never seem to go quite as well without it.

 

Amy doesn’t have much time to lay there pouting about the absence of her boyfriend in bed; before she can call out his name and figure out why on earth he’s awake before her, he’s strolling in, wide awake - already _dressed,_ even - with a mug in each hand and a broad grin on his face.

 

“Happy Tactical Village day!”

 

Of course, this _would_ be the only logical explanation for Jake being up before seven. Frankly, she’s surprised she didn’t remember sooner. Amy smiles, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

 

“Who’s the character this year?”

 

“Vladimir Smirnov,” Jake says confidently in a terrible Russian accent, “a former spy seeking revenge from the mob boss that killed the woman that turned him over to the light and taught him how to love.”

 

Amy laughs at the familiarity of it all, leaving the warmth of the bed to stride over to him and wrap her arms loosely around his neck.

 

“Definitely better than Rex Buckingham. I think Vic Kovac was the sexiest, though.”

 

Jake’s eyes widen comically, his hands stilling on her waist. “You were into that?”

 

She kisses his cheek and strolls off to the bathroom before he can ask any more questions about her formerly bottled-up feelings.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So, we’re paired the Seven-Six this year,” Terry says to the squad as they enter the village, reading from a piece of paper.

 

“Nice, their arrest numbers were crazy last year,” Rosa says approvingly.

 

Amy looks around the room, which has no discernible differences from last year’s layout. The hostages and perps are getting ready in the corner while most of the other squads begin to prepare for the course.

 

“Oh my god, Jake Peralta!”

 

Amy whips her head around at the voice, higher-pitched than her own and unfamiliar. Standing in front of a group of people that she recognizes to be the Seven-Six is an absolutely stunning woman with shiny light brown hair falling just past her shoulders and piercing blue eyes.

 

“Katherine, it’s been forever,” Jake says with a small laugh, stepping towards her as she pulls him into a tight hug. “I didn’t know you were with the Seven-Six now.”

 

The woman - Katherine - releases Jake, still holding him at an arm’s length.

 

“Yeah, it’s awesome other than the cost of living in Manhattan,” Katherine quips. “You’re still with the Nine-Nine?”

 

Jake finally turns back to the squad for a moment, which has gradually dispersed to the point that only Amy is still looking at him (and Rosa looking at her with what’s she’s sure is a knowing smirk).

 

“Yeah! These are my coworkers, Detective Diaz and Detective Santiago.”

 

Amy forces a polite grin, trying not to care that he referred to her as a colleague - it’s a terribly petty thing to care about, something that she never _would_ care about if it weren’t for the beautiful woman still smiling at him.

 

“Nice to meet you…sorry, what was it?”

 

“Detective Katherine Porter,” she states confidently, extending a hand to shake Amy’s firmly. “Peralta and I go way back. We were friends in the academy and dated for a few months right after we started as beat cops.”

 

The haven’t had the exes talk yet, so Amy shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t like she thought Jake never had girlfriends - she’s met a few since she’s known him, Sophia being the longest relationship she can recall - but never has she felt the ugly emotion rising in her chest right now. There were many times she felt a tinge of jealousy towards Sophia (like, every time he kissed her or held her hand or, to be honest, even mentioned her name) but now she feels a possessive instinct that is both new and entirely unwelcome.

 

The gears in her brain must be whirring a mile a minute, her face easily giving away her inner thoughts, because Rosa pulls her away under the guise of “looking at some guns” while Jake continues to chat with _Katherine_.

 

 _“_ Santiago, you are so jealous.”

 

Amy wants to object immediately, but even if the gun is just a paintball gun, Rosa holding one is a menacing enough sight that she doesn’t dare lie to her.

 

“I’m - maybe a little - she’s _gorgeous-“_

 

“Amy,” Rosa says sternly. “Jake is obsessed with you. You know it, I know it, anyone who steps within ten feet of him knows it. Who cares about some dumb ex he dated ten years ago?”

 

“I don’t care.” Amy grabs the nearest gun and fires it at one of the targets, landing a perfect bullseye. “Let’s just get ready for the course, alright?”

 

Much of the next few minutes consist of Amy busying herself with firearms and trying to avoid watching Katherine follow Jake around the village and laugh at everything Jake says and - _god_ , why is she touching his arm so much?

 

She’s pretty sure Jake is oblivious of any jealousy she may be harbouring, because when Katherine slips away for a moment he turns to grin at Amy. He’s holding up a huge gun and pretending to shoot at nothing in particular and smiling like a little kid at _her_ , not at Katherine. Still, the feeling lingers.

 

It lingers when they start the drill and she watches him bust into a room and take down three perps in one swift movement, when he pumps his fist victoriously and turns to high-five her, when Katherine re-emerges out of nowhere immediately afterwards to congratulate him on beating the course record again and hug him _again_.

 

Amy would be appreciating his fitted navy t-shirt and the confident aura he’s radiating even if it weren’t for the jealous streak she’s experiencing, but the culmination of everything is enough for her to abandon her attempts to be a “chill” girlfriend who isn’t intimidated by gorgeous women her boyfriend has slept with.

 

“I’m just gonna borrow Jake for a second, if you don’t mind-“ She grabs his hand and tugs him away from a very confused Katherine, ignoring Jake’s raised eyebrows as she pulls him into the nearest empty room and shuts the door.

 

“Ames, what’s going-“

 

She grabs him by the material of his t-shirt and kisses him, feeling him stumble backwards in shock until his back hits the wall and his hands find her waist. When she feels his attempts to pull away, she presses herself closer against him and slides her tongue into his mouth, knowing this will incapacitate him for at least another minute or two.

 

“Amy,” he finally manages to pull away long enough to say, panting slightly. “Are you okay? Someone could walk in.”

 

She drops her hands from his hair, taking a small step back and shifting her weight awkwardly.

 

“Is it a crime to kiss my boyfriend after he just set the course record?”

 

“It is if you’re Amy Santiago and you have a very definite set of rules for workplace PDA.”

 

She has been enforcing said rules quite regularly when he tries to hold her hand in the break room during their lunch or steal a kiss in the evidence lockup, despite her constant urge to reciprocate.

 

“Well, maybe I missed you since you’ve been so _busy_ all day- _“_

 

The look on his face quickly informs her that she’s given herself away, somewhere between shock and smugness.

 

“Hold on. Are you...jealous?”

 

Amy crosses her arms defensively and opens her mouth to bark out a defense, but she can’t find the words to get her out of this one.

 

“Maybe a little.” Jake starts laughing, and she hits his arm and furrows her brow. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m only human, Jake, obviously I noticed your beautiful ex-girlfriend flirting with you all day.”

 

He shakes his head apologetically, stepping forward to grab her hands in his. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just - there’s no threat there, Ames. I dated her over ten years ago.”

 

She softens a little, squeezing his hands.

 

“She just seemed so into you, and I didn’t wanna be the crazy jealous girlfriend, but-“

 

“She asked me to go to dinner before the drill started.”

 

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”

 

“Is there a ‘but’ coming, title of your-”

 

“Jake,” she cuts him off with a stern look.

 

He laughs at his own joke as he tangles their fingers together.

 

“ _But_ I told her I’m not interested, that I’m _very_ happily dating someone else, and she backed off. She’s just an old friend, I have no interest in her or anyone else that’s not you, okay?”

 

He stares at her for a few moments with the same soft, loving look that has made her melt more than once before, until she finally nods and lets out a sigh, running her hand up his bicep.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay,” he repeats, ducking down to kiss her again. “Also, even though it’s crazy to think I would ever wanna date her when I have you _,_ it doesn’t make _you_ crazy. Remember Tactical Village ‘14, when I followed you and Teddy around all day? I was straight-up obsessed.”

 

Amy lets out a soft laugh, remembering the days of their blossoming feelings with quiet reverence and a small pang of regret that she didn’t grow to understand her feelings earlier.

 

“I would’ve gone out with you if you had asked first, dummy.”

 

“Ugh, that’s what Charles said!” He exclaims, pulling his hand away to slap his forehead. “We suck at timing.”

 

“Speaking of bad timing…I probably shouldn’t have tried to make out with you at a work event,” Amy says, red creeping onto her cheeks.

 

“You’re right, we should get out of here.”

 

Her eyes widen incredulously. “Jake! We have to go back to work after this!”

 

“We also have a lunch break and my car-”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

She tries to walk out, her stride interrupted by a hand gently tugging her arm and spinning her back around, followed by lips pressing against hers.

 

When she sighs happily, he pulls away to survey her expression.

 

“Can I take that as a yes?”

 

“It’s a maybe,” she murmurs teasingly against his lips.

 

“Does the fact that I cleaned all the candy wrappers out of the backseat sway your vote?”

 

(It does.)


	4. everything will bring a chain of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23\. Exhausted parents kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from danny's song by loggins & messina

Amy’s had a lot of long weeks over the years. She’s had long weeks studying for the sergeant’s exam, long weeks working on grueling cases, _really_ long weeks trying to prove her now-husband’s innocence a few years back.

 

She thought she knew how it felt to be truly, completely exhausted, but truthfully, she had no idea. The combination of studying for the lieutenant’s exam, the workload of an NYPD sergeant during a slight crime spike, and taking care of an eight-month-old baby who is teething - _that_ is exhaustion.

 

“In the kitchen, babe!” She hears Jake call out the moment she enters the apartment, and she breathes a sigh of relief (but not surprise) that making dinner is one thing she doesn’t have to worry about today.

 

Their daughter is happily sitting in her high chair, leisurely munching on the mashed sweet potatoes Jake is feeding her as he directs the other half of his attention to the pasta he’s cooking on the stove. He’s clearly flustered by the multitasking, but it doesn’t stop a wide smile from spreading across his face as she walks into the room and Abby’s eyes light up at the sight of her mother.

 

“Hi, baby,” Amy says with a tired smile, leaning down to kiss Abby’s hair - which seems to grow longer and more like her father’s every single day - before moving towards Jake.

 

He’s just as tired as she is, though he’s better at concealing it - today was his day off, but actual “days off” are a thing of the past now that they’re parents. She’s grateful to come home to laundry done, dinner ready and the apartment relatively clean on days like these, but it’s a little disheartening when they’re both too worn out to actually enjoy each other’s company.

 

“How was work?” he asks through a yawn, stirring the pasta with one hand while the other comes to rest on her waist.

 

“Long. Exhausting,” she sighs, leaning into him and letting her head fall on his shoulder for a moment. “I have to study for at least three hours tonight.”

 

“I’ll help you.”

 

It’s reminiscent of the long nights he stayed up with her - quizzing her, making sure she ate, helping her through mental breakdowns - while she studied for the sergeant’s exam a few years ago, shortly after they first moved in together. Of all the things that have changed since then, his unconditional care and support have never wavered.

 

“Thanks, babe,” she murmurs, pecking his jaw before heading to their bedroom to free herself from her uniform and change into more appropriate attire for an evening of trying to get an infant to sleep while cramming as much information into her brain as possible.

 

She reemerges a few minutes later to find Jake making silly faces at Abby as he busily cleans up the kitchen and pours two glasses of wine to go with their dinner, their daughter laughing gleefully in appreciation of his silliness.

 

It’s the sort of thing that could make anyone emotional, so as an overly sentimental person under the influence of exhaustion and the “new mom” hormones that make her even more vulnerable to sad movies and that one poster at the bank, it’s enough to bring tears to her eyes.

 

“You okay, honey?” Jake asks, walking over to pass her one of the glasses and cup her cheek with the other hand.

 

Amy nods, smiling tearfully. “I’m just tired and stressed and I - I’m so lucky to have you.”

 

Jake sweeps his hand up and down her back, drawing her closer so his lips can meet her forehead.

 

“I know it’s been a rough week, but it’s all gonna be worth it when you’re the most badass - I mean, _coolest_ \- lieutenant-slash-mom-slash-wife in the history of the universe, okay?”

 

She turns her head to look up at him and press her lips against his - short and sweet and interrupted by a sound from a few feet away that makes Amy jerk away from him and her eyes fly open.

 

“Did she just say ' _mama'_?” Amy exclaims, rushing over to Abby’s high chair.

 

“Mama,” Abby says again, clear as day and pointing directly at Amy.

 

“Oh my god, Ames,” Jake says in disbelief, nodding his head as he laughs breathlessly. “That’s her first word.”

 

Trying to hold back the tears is futile now, her cheeks completely wet as she pulls Jake into another, slightly longer kiss.

 

“It’s totally worth it,” she murmurs, turning in his arms to face their baby together.

 

Jake squeezes her waist and kisses the top of her head. “ _So_ worth it.”


	5. nothing has changed me quite like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. Sneaking away to a corner to share a secretive kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from/inspired by nothing is u by bleachers xoxoxo

Friday nights, for most of Jake’s time at the Nine-Nine, have been the agreed-upon time for drinks at Shaw’s. The members in attendance vary - Holt is usually only there for celebrations, Terry swings by for a drink or two every few weeks, Rosa’s absence is usually the first (and often, only) indication that she’s in a new relationship - but at least some combination of their group has usually congregated by eight o’clock.

 

Tonight, Terry has made an appearance, which prompted Gina to come as well; Rosa is on her fourth or fifth drink already, mumbling something about the precinct’s new detective, Adrian Pimento; Hitchcock and Scully have fallen asleep at a table across the bar after devouring half the menu and a pitcher of beer; and Charles and Jake are discussing the case they worked all week and successfully closed just over an hour ago.

 

“I still can’t believe his best friend tried to frame him,” Charles mutters with a swig of his beer, oblivious to Gina’s annoyed glare as he accidentally elbows her, “I mean, what kind of a person does that? I would _never_ do that to you, Jake.”

 

“You’re also not a murderer, Charles,” Jake points out. “What would you be framing me for, cheese theft?”

 

Charles scoffs. “As if anyone would believe you have my taste in cheese.”

 

Jake raises his eyebrows rather than questioning the merits of his friend’s argument, looking down at his nearly empty glass. The thought of ditching the gang to head to Amy’s apartment would typically be crossing his mind right about now, and more often than not over the past eight months, it’s what he would end up doing, if she weren’t out for dinner with a group of friends from college.

 

Being in a committed, adult relationship, Jake has learned, is a lot better than TV and movies have led him to believe. They’ve fallen into a bit of a domestic routine - due in part to Amy’s schedule for nights spent at each other’s apartments, which they almost always follow - but it couldn’t feel less routine. He doesn’t fully comprehend why or how, other than his vague understanding that it must have _something_ to do with how completely in love he is with her, but every single night they spend watching Jeopardy or ordering Thai food is somehow better than the last.

 

Despite the fact that he’s itching to text her and ask if her dinner is over yet, he’s trying his hardest to remain engaged in the conversation and let Amy enjoy a night with her friends (after _three_ nights spent at his place, a clear breach of the schedule).

 

“I’m just saying, Terry, if you’re looking to get some gouda, everyone knows to consult my bi-weekly rankings,” Charles drawls, speaking over the rest of their table. “You’re not gonna call _Jake_.”

 

“Oh my god, Charles, how are you still talking about cheese? Nobody is fighting you on this.”

 

He can see Boyle gearing up to lecture him on the fundamental importance of gouda to a well-seasoned palate, and - fortunately - Gina stops it before Jake can attempt to.

 

“Does anyone want another round of drinks? I think it’s Jake’s turn to - oh _damn_.” Gina is clearly observing something Jake is not yet privy to, her eyes glued somewhere behind his head. “Who knew Santiago looked hot when she takes off those horrible pantsuits? I keep _saying_ you should burn them, Jake.”

 

He whips his head around to face the entrance, greeted with the radiant beauty standing in the doorway with a sleeveless black dress hugging the curves of her body and shiny, dark hair falling down her shoulders in such a way that Jake is questioning the reality of the fact that he’s dating someone so breathtakingly gorgeous.

 

His stare is probably caught somewhere between awe and lust when she meets his gaze, blushing a little before she smiles and starts to make her way over to him.

 

“Hey, guys.” Amy greets the squad as she approaches the booth, stopping once she reaches Jake to lean over and kiss him. He’s hardly able to reciprocate before she pulls away, far too shaken by her angelic presence.

 

Before she can take a seat in the available spot next to Terry, he reaches out to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into the booth, partially on his lap, eliciting a small giggle from her pink-tinted lips.

 

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he says with an adoring smile, as Charles moves over and he shifts correspondingly to make room for her. His arm snakes around her waist and keeps her close, his thumb brushing over the silky material of her dress in a way that he knows from previous experience has the capacity to attain her undivided attention. “How was dinner?”

 

She shrugs, resting her hand on his thigh - her usual countermove to his methods of distraction - and turns to face the rest of their group. It’s amazing how desensitized their friends have become to their displays of affection at non-work events - their current level of proximity would’ve surely earned a few fake gags or unwanted attention (from someone others than Charles, who is still very much staring at them) a few months ago. Now, their relationship is a normal, natural part of all of their lives - Jake and Amy have grown to be referred to as one unit, a package deal rivalled only by Hitchcock and Scully.

 

“It was okay. I missed you guys, though.” Her eyes flicker briefly to each of her friends before landing back on Jake, twinkling warmly as she smiles at him.

 

Jake is still coming to terms with the extent of how deeply in love with her he is, and moments like these - when she gives him _that_ look - still completely rattle his brain and make the rest of the world fizzle out. There are thirty people, maybe, in the room, dozens of conversations going on around in him, a song playing through the speakers, glasses and bottles clinking against one another, and all he can focus on is the sound of her voice as she asks him how his day was and, even more predominantly, how perfect her glossy lips look as they move and how badly he needs to be kissing her _right now._

 

“Let’s go,” he says, probably way too abruptly jumping up from the table and taking her hand in his. She furrows her brow in confusion as he leads her away from the bar and towards the hallway leading to the bathrooms, navigating their path through the tables and various bar patrons.

 

“Jake, where are we-”

 

He cups her face in his hands and swiftly leans down to kiss her. She promptly reciprocates and wraps her arms around his neck, tugging his body flush against hers and deepening the kiss. They get lost in it for a minute, breaking apart only when a drunk guy comes stumbling out of the men’s room a few feet away from them.

 

“What was that for?” Amy asks, laughing softly and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. She looks happy, _exorbitantly_ happy - her face is practically gleaming with positive energy. She looks like the personification of joy and affection and _love_.

 

“You’re beautiful,” is all he manages to say, a horrible understatement, but it only makes her smile grow.

 

“You’re adorable. Cheesy, but adorable.” She stands on her tiptoes to peck his lips again, pulling away slowly. “I’m gonna go get a beer, do you want one?”

 

He nods, still at a loss for words, and makes his way back to the booth with an awestruck smile still plastered on his face. His eyes can’t help but linger on her as she approaches the bar and tries to get the attention of the bartender - which she does in about half a second, along with the attention of every other guy sitting at the bar (the spark of jealousy and protectiveness doesn’t stand a chance of catching flame when she’s still smiling and looking at _him_ from across the room.)

 

“God, quit staring at her, Peralta,” Rosa complains, wrinkling her nose. “It’s weird.”

 

Jake jerks his head away from Amy and furrows his eyebrows. “It’s not weird, she’s my girlfriend.”

 

“You stares at her a lot _before_ she was your girlfriend, if I remember correctly,” Terry chimes in.

 

“Hey!” Jake exclaims defensively, as if it isn’t indisputably true (looking back, his casual crush on a colleague was not so casual at all). “Leave me alone, Terry, shouldn’t you be home watching HGTV with Sharon and changing diapers by now?”

 

Terry just laughs, idly sipping his drink. “You mock me now, Peralta, but in a few years that’ll be you guys.”

 

Jake scoffs, unable to think of a proper rebuttal before Amy is back and he’s sliding over to make room for her at his side once more.

 

 _Terry’s totally ridiculous_ , he thinks.

 

(The way she fits into his side, her hand finds his without a moment of hesitation and their fingers slide together like it’s their intended purpose begs to differ, but still.)

 

 _Terry is ridiculous_.

 

(They’ve only been dating for eight months. Jake’s never even _thought_ about marriage or kids much before. He’s not that old, he’s not that emotionally mature - it took everything in him to respond with more than “noice, smort” when she confessed her love a few weeks ago, even though he loves her with every fibre of his being. _God_ , he loves her.)

 

_Completely ridiculous._

 

“You okay, babe?” Amy asks him a few minutes into his quiet contemplation, squeezing his hand twice.

 

He looks down at her, sees her perfect smile shining up at him, and it feels like his heart is doing acrobatics in his chest.

 

“Yeah,” he grins at her and squeezes back, his thumb lightly brushing over the ring finger on her left hand.

 

Maybe Terry’s not _that_ ridiculous.


	6. try to quiet the noises in your head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 75\. Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from only us from dear evan hansen

The first observation Amy makes as she wakes up in the middle of the night is that she’s cold. Under normal circumstances, she would roll over and go back to sleep, but the shivers running down her bare arms send the signal to her barely-conscious brain that there’s something else requiring her attention. Cold means she’s alone in bed, with no warm object to burrow into on her right.

 

Cold means Jake’s not there.

 

Rationally, she knows that Jake _is_ here _-_ likely in the bathroom or watching TV because he can’t sleep again (she hates Melanie Hawkins a little more on those nights, if that’s even possible) and he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

 

Less rationally - and she’s _allowed_ to be irrational, she just lost her boyfriend for two months - she’s still a little bit worried she imagined their passionate reunion and the less dramatic, quieter, but beautiful days they’ve spent slowly adjusting and recovering.

 

She slips her feet into the slippers her mom got her for Christmas last year and grabs Jake’s hoodie from where it’s carelessly strewn over the back of a chair (she even missed the messiness - _so_ much more than she thought she would) to warm her goosebump-clad arms. As she trudges out into the living room she’s surprised to find the television turned off, no light on but one of her reading lamps glowing softly on the dining table, and a messy pile of papers and folders laid out in front of a very disheveled Jake.

 

“Hey, babe,” she whispers, failing in her attempt not to startle him as his head jerks up and he nearly falls backward in his chair. She’s still getting used to his new, heightened level of alertness. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, running a hand through his hair for what she has to guess from its disorderliness must be the hundredth time that night.

 

She approaches him slowly, her eyes briefly scanning the pages in front of him as she comes around to his side of the table. They’re old case files, which she gets right away from a few dates and names she recognizes, and it doesn’t take much longer to figure out why they’re laid across their table at three in the morning. Charles told her about the case, about the man that Jake let go out of fear that he was innocent (it doesn’t take a psychotherapist to figure that one out) and Holt let slip that he and Jake had come to the agreement that it was best he stay on desk duty for a few more weeks.

 

“What’s all this?” she asks, her hands tentatively reaching to massage his shoulders, alleviating some of the tension before it rises.

 

“Just some old case files,” he mumbles, his eyes never leaving the table. “Making sure I didn’t miss anything.”

 

It’s clear from his tone that he’s not interested in elaborating. While she understands the importance of talking about all of this and weaving their way through the ups and downs of his post-prison life together, she also acknowledges that three in the morning, when he’s already on edge, is not the right time to pry his emotions and feelings out of him (which is enough of a challenge on a good day).

 

That’s a discussion for tomorrow, which Holt thoughtfully gave her off work to match Jake’s existing day off. Her worry must have been more obvious than she meant for it to be.

 

Right now, she just needs to distract him from all of this adequately enough that he’ll agree to come back to bed with her and abandon the case files for the night, so she employs the best method at her disposal; slowly, she bends down to kiss his cheek, her lips pressing tender kisses all the way along his jawline and towards his neck.

 

He sighs, leaning into her slightly as her lips travel everywhere they can reach, remaining light and affectionate.

 

“Why don’t you put this stuff down for the night and come back to bed?” she suggests, her lips grazing his ear as she whispers.

 

“I can’t.” Jake shakes his head vehemently. “I have to make sure.”

 

“I’m sure you got everything right.” She kisses the corner of her mouth as he turns slightly in her direction.

 

“But what if I didn’t? I mean-” He takes a shaky breath. “What if one of them was innocent?”

 

Now that he’s dropped this bomb, she realizes very quickly that there is no delaying this. He needs her _now_ , and not merely as a tool of distraction - her instincts are telling her to take care of him, protect him, _love_ him.

 

“Oh, babe,” she breathes, moving to face him. His eyes are slightly more watery and red, his face a bit paler, and every bone in her body feels an innate need to wrap him in her arms.

 

Before she can act on her inclinations and hold him close, he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her down onto his lap. His arms don’t loosen their grip around her as he buries his face in her shoulder and she feels the beginning of tears soak through the fabric of the hoodie.

 

She’s so surprised to see him in such an emotional and fragile state that it takes her a moment to respond and wrap her arms around him in turn, one hand stroking his upper back while the other cradles his head to her.

 

“I can’t put anyone else through that, Ames,” he says shakily, a barely restrained sob at the back of his throat. “It was horrible.”

 

His trauma has been evident only in the details since he’s been back - lack of sleep, the pain and distance in his eyes when he doesn’t know she’s looking at him, the brief but noticeable stiffness when she accidentally touched him without warning. Amy knew on some level that this sort of breakdown was only inevitable.

 

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry.” She rests her chin on the top of his head and hugs him tighter, shutting her eyes tightly to prevent her own tears from leaking.

 

She needs to be strong for him, because she _knows_ how horrible prison can be - even if her brief stint undercover was a different situation entirely - and she knows that he needs her more than ever. She _didn’t_ know until now that it’s horrible in an entirely different way to watch the person you love suffer through something of which he was so painfully undeserving.

 

“I love you so much,” she says after a few minutes of quietly doing all she can to comfort him have passed, because it’s all her tired and weary brain can conjure at three in the morning.

 

He lifts his head off her shoulder to bring their foreheads together, both of them still relishing in the ability to be this close and intimate again. There are no guards present, no rules preventing them from touching for more than ten seconds. There is nobody here but them.

 

“I love you too.” He leans in to brush his lips against hers, and the aching in her chest subsides marginally. “I’m sorry about all this. I know it’s a lot.”

 

She shakes her head quickly, cupping his face with her hand and brushing her thumb over his cheek to catch the lingering tears.

 

“Never apologize for this, Jake. This isn’t just your burden, okay?” Both of her hands clasp around his and squeeze tightly. “I’m here if you want to talk, or - or not talk. I’m here.”

 

He smiles sadly and pulls her back into his arms, holding on just as tightly as before.

 

She’s perfectly content to stay like this, with her face buried in his neck, for as long as he needs to feel safe and calm again, so she waits for his low murmur in her ear suggesting that they go to bed.

 

In the morning, there will be more lengthy discussion of prison and work and recovery. For tonight, there is only whispered ‘I love you’s in the dark of their bedroom, miles and miles away from Jericho Supermax.


	7. i could offer you a warm embrace to make you feel my love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. A forehead kiss
> 
> \+ tumblr prompts:
> 
> If you’re taking prompts at all: could you do something along the lines of Jake warming up a super cold Amy during the early stages of this relationship? - anonymous
> 
> Can you do something hurt/comfort but with Jake comforting Amy? But like also suuuuper angsty? I’m fine I swear LOL - anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure i don't know if this is /super/ angsty but it's pretty angsty lmao  
> title from make you feel my love by bob dylan

The docks are barely covered with a light dusting of mid-November snow by the time Jake pulls up, parking his car rather haphazardly and taking off running in no particular direction - just to her, to Amy, to any sort of reassurance that his girlfriend is okay.

 

He realizes very quickly that Rosa’s words on the phone (“she’s fine, but you should get down here as soon as you can”) must have been a great understatement in interest of him not crashing his car in an effort to get to her. As far as he can tell from the moment he sees Amy sitting in the back of an ambulance, she is _not_ fine.

 

If she was _fine_ , she wouldn’t have an IV in her arm, she wouldn’t be trembling under a pile of blankets as a paramedic looks at her left shoulder and Rosa sits on her right side murmuring words of comfort and breaking her own rule about physical contact, she wouldn’t be paler than he’s ever seen her.

 

She’s _way_ too pale - it looks like all the life and colour have been drained out of her. It _terrifies_ him.

 

He eliminates the rest of the distance between them much faster than he was running before he spotted her, making all three heads turn in his direction as he comes barrelling towards her with frantic ‘worried boyfriend’ energy written all over his face. It’s a role he hasn’t yet had to play in the first few months of their relationship, and he’s not overly fond of the all-encompassing fear and panic coursing through his veins.

 

Amy brushes off the paramedic the moment he’s within her reach and throws her arms around him, yanking the IV out in the process, and his engulf her just as quickly. He almost jolts backward on reflex as her freezing cold lips graze his neck, but its replaced by a far stronger instinct to tighten his hold on her and not release her until she’s warm. Her arms slide around his waist under his jacket in response, and she lets out a single word in the form of a shaky, quiet sob: “ _Jake_.”

 

“‘M here, Ames,” he whispers, still catching his breath from the short sprint over to her. He grants himself a moment to close his eyes and bury his face in her hair before he raises his head to look from the twenty-something female paramedic to his long-time friend and coworker. Rosa’s eyes are dark and her stare is apologetic. “What happened?”

 

“Our perps went off running in different directions, so we split up,” Rosa says, her voice lacking its usual steadiness. Jake realizes for the first time that her hair is as wet at Amy’s, but she doesn’t appear to be in anywhere near the same amount of distress. “Amy followed the guy down by the water, but he spun around and pushed her off the dock. She hit her head and shoulder on the way down.” Jake keeps his eyes on Rosa but squeezes Amy tighter, carefully avoiding her injury. “By the time I caught my guy and came back to find Amy, she’d been in the water for, I don’t know, ten minutes, maybe? There weren’t a lot of people around, so I was the first one to find her and pull her out-”

 

“I-I tried,” Amy mutters weakly, words muffled by his hoodie. “I-I tried to swim but I was so cold that I-”

 

She’s cut off by a violent tremor through her body, and Jake hastily removes his hoodie and jacket without any thought and wraps both of them around her to more effectively shield her from the cold. He eases her back into her former seated position, working together with the paramedic to cover her with the blankets once more.

 

“Jake, I-”

 

“You don’t have to talk, honey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, surprising himself with how early the term of endearment rolls of his tongue. He sees her hands begin to frantically reach for him again and he settles into the place between her and Rosa, pulling her back into his chest in the same movement. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

 

Amy sniffles and buries her nose in his chest. She feels smaller and more fragile in his arms than she ever has before, and it’s incredibly jarring.

 

“So then you called 911?” Jake continues, trying to keep his voice steady and calm enough that it’s somewhat soothing for Amy.

 

“No. When I pulled her out, she wasn’t-I think she managed to stay above water most of the time, but with the cold and everything-” Rosa shivers for a moment, though it seems to be more of a reaction to the trauma than her body temperature. Jake gulps and prepares himself for Rosa to finish her sentence, despite the anxiety gnawing at his chest. “She wasn’t breathing. I-I had to give her CPR.”

 

Jake’s throat feels dry and his eyes begin to well with emotion as his hand automatically sweeps up Amy’s back to cradle her head to him and his fingers come to lightly rest on the pulse point on her neck, the steady beating of her heart helping the pit in his stomach subside slightly.

 

“I-holy shit, Ames, I just-” He pulls away from her a little to frame his face in her hands. “I should’ve been here, I should’ve-”

 

Amy gives a small shake of her head, her cold lips pressing chastely against his in what he assumes is the best comfort she feels she can offer him right now. She mumbles a soft “it’s okay” after they part and tucks herself back into his embrace. He hates that she’s comforting _him_ right now but, damn it, if losing her isn’t the _single most terrifying_ thought his brain has ever produced.

 

“Thank god,” he sighs into her shoulder, eyes tightly shut. “Thank _god_ you’re okay. I mean-” He looks up at the paramedic, whose presence he had largely forgotten about until this moment. “She’s okay, right?”

 

“I’ve treated her for hypothermia and a mild concussion, as well as some deep bruising on her shoulder,” the woman states clearly and concisely, addressing Jake. “You’ll be the one taking care of her?”

 

He nods without a thought, his hand smoothing down Amy’s damp and tangled hair in a repetitive motion.

 

“Make sure she gets lots of rest, drinks warm fluids, and, obviously, ensure that she stays warm and dry. Her body will be tired and sore, so she’ll want to take at least tomorrow off to recuperate. Keep an eye on her overnight, call 911 if she loses consciousness at any point.”

 

He nods gratefully, trying to commit her instructions to memory, and adjusts his grip on Amy slightly to keep one arm looped around her waist and use his other hand to cup her cheek.

 

“Okay, Ames, I’m gonna take you home.” His voice is somehow, impossibly, even softer than it was before. “Do you want me to carry you to the car?”

 

She slowly, carefully shifts off of the ambulance in a stiff movement and plants her feet firmly on the ground, still gripping his shirt for support. “I think I’m okay.”

 

“Okay,” Jake says a bit apprehensively, his hand remaining steady on her back. He briefly allows his eyes to leave her to look at Rosa. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine, Jake,” Rosa says with a small eye roll and an almost imperceptible upward curl of her lips. “Get her home and text me later to let me know how she’s doing, I have to go back to work and finish the arrest report.”

 

“Okay. Let’s go, babe.” He helps her walk to the vehicle and opens the door for her, getting her adjusted with her seatbelt and blankets despite quiet protests that she can do it herself, then reaches over to blast the heat. “You okay? Are you comfortable?”

 

She nods slightly, giving him a small smile in reassurance, and allows her eyes to flutter shut for the remainder of the drive home. He spares a glance in her direction every few seconds, trying to determine whether or not she’s in much pain and placing a hand on her knee to rub comforting circles.

 

He slowly guides her upstairs once he’s secured a parking spot outside her apartment, an arm wrapped snugly around her waist to keep her from falling over as she leans into him with a hand still loosely wrapped around the material his shirt.

 

Getting her changed out of the still-damp pants and tank top she has on under the layers he gave her is his most pressing concern. He leads her to the bedroom and moves around in a flurry to find her some sweatpants and his oversized sweatshirt from college, hanging neatly in her closet as it often is these days; the fleece lining inherently makes it her absolute favourite article of clothing to steal from him.

 

Amy quickly peels off her wet clothes and changes into the ones he’s gathered for her, wincing as she attempts to lift her arms and pull the sweatshirt over her head.

 

“You okay?” He strides toward her, no longer caring about the few feet of personal space he had given her to change.

 

“It’s my shoulder-can you just-”

 

Her voice is small, her exhaustion becoming more and more apparent as she weakly gestures for him to help her with the sweater. He quickly pulls it over her head, careful not to jostle her injured shoulder, and runs his hands up and down her arms.

 

“Thanks.” She leans forward until her forehead collides with his chest and takes a slow, deep breath. “Can we go to the couch?”

 

He guides her to the couch and makes quick work of getting her settled in. Once he’s satisfied with the amount of pillows supporting her head and the number of blankets he’s draped over her body, he takes a moment to survey her before he steps away. Her hand in his is still cold but not as frozen as before, her cheeks have regained some of their usual colour, her half-lidded eyes are shining a little more brightly than when he first found her. He releases what he’s pretty sure is his first real breath in an hour.

 

“Do you want tea or hot chocolate?”

 

She shakes her head in response and reaches to grab his wrist and prevent him from retreating to the kitchen. “Don’t leave.”

 

Jake lets out a breathy laugh. “Babe, I’m not leaving. I’m just trying to warm you up.”

 

“ _You’re_ warm.” She releases his wrist and slides her fingers between his. “I just need you.”

 

The desperation in her voice is convincing enough for him to put the drinks on hold and lean back into the couch, opening his arms for her to crawl into. She sighs with contentment as her head once again finds itself buried in his neck.

 

“How are you feeling?” His hands trail her arms in a subconscious attempt to generate more heat.

 

“I’m okay,” she mumbles against him, shuffling closer and squeezing his stomach. Then, barely above a whisper: “I was scared.”

 

“I know, babe,” he says in a low voice, kissing the top of her head. “I can’t even imagine.”

 

“I couldn’t breathe. I was so cold and I couldn’t swim anymore and then I-I couldn’t breathe-”

 

Tears have begun to well in her eyes already as he pulls away to look at her, her bottom lip just barely beginning to tremble. He recognizes the look from impending panic attacks and nights spent watching sad movies. As always, he shifts gears and pulls her into a tighter embrace while whispering words of comfort.

 

“I know, Ames. I’ve got you, you’re okay now.” His lips graze her temple as he speaks, feeling her clutch him tighter with every murmured reassurance. “You’re safe, I’m here.”

 

His grip doesn’t waver, nor do his words of comfort taper off until her sobs are reduced to quiet sniffles and she is once again still against him. He pulls away only to wipe the tears from her cheeks and press his lips to her forehead in a long, sound kiss that makes her eyes flutter shut and her body relax even more.

 

“Yeah, you’re okay,” he whispers against he skin, talking primarily to himself this time. “You’re okay.”

 

She smiles warmly at him as he pulls back, curling herself into his frame and grabbing his hand to squeeze it with all the strength she can muster before letting her head fall against his chest again and finally letting sleep embrace her.

 

He doesn’t close his eyes, not daring to let himself sleep at least for a few hours in order to properly monitor her recovery and ensure that no negative side effects of her hypothermia or concussion make an appearance. He’s content to hold her and listen to her breathing until she resurfaces about an hour later to adjust her position cuddled against him.

 

“Thanks for taking care of me,” she mumbles in an adorable, sleepy tone that elicits a familiar fluttering sensation in his stomach.

 

“Of course, babe,” he responds, his voice shaky with deep-rooted affection and relief.

 

She squeezes his torso appreciatively. “And thanks for being so warm.”

 

“Awwww, I _knew_ you were only dating me for my body heat.”

 

“Not _just_ for your body heat.” She presses a light kiss to his jaw. “I’m mostly in it for your money."

 

He lets out a lighthearted chuckle and holds her tighter, contently resting his head against the top of hers.

 

“Go back to sleep, Ames. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

Jake waits until she falls asleep again, watching her protectively even though he knows no more harm can befall her here, and carefully lets himself out of her embrace to grab water, ibuprofen and a granola bar for when she wakes up. He returns to find her drooling on the pillow, looking incredibly content and warm in his baggy sweater, and settles back into his spot on the couch, turning the TV on with low volume and gently guiding her into his lap so he can run his fingers through her hair while she rests.

 

Silently, through a tender kiss to the back of her hand rather than any spoken commitment, he vows to protect and take care of her for as long as she’ll let him.


	8. change me at all costs, starlight and star-crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 57\. Breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from let's get married by bleachers!!

It becomes abundantly clear to the squad within minutes of Captain Holt’s somewhat heartfelt toast to Jake and Amy’s engagement that they are in for a night of PDA like never before.

 

Usually, Jake and Amy aren’t overly affectionate in front of other people. There’s the odd time he’ll rest a hand on her back as they walk into the briefing room or she’ll lean into his side while they order drinks, but compared to Rosa and Pimento’s graphic makeout sessions in the briefing room or Charles and Genevieve’s unorthodox behaviour, they keep things reasonably appropriate (this rule may have been established in part as a result of the time their display of affection _literally killed a man_ , which they try not to bring up too often).

 

There have been a few exceptions to the rule; namely, the first Shaw’s nights with the squad after Jake returned from Florida and prison, and the odd evening that Amy hit her four-drink mark and Jake wasn’t sober or strong-willed enough to suggest they go elsewhere.

 

Presently, there are no months of separation immediately in their rearview (though memories of prison are still fresh) and they’ve had no more than one or two beers each, yet they find themselves tucked into a booth kissing and giggling with absolutely no regard for rules or social convention.

 

“We’re getting married,” Amy muses for the third time in the past ten minutes, her cheeks already beginning to hurt from exorbitant amounts of smiling.

 

Jake uses his arm slung around her shoulder to pull her closer, his grin in close competition with hers for the clearest expression of joy in the history of the universe. Anybody in the room - friends and strangers alike - can see the pure love radiating from their little corner booth. He leans in to kiss her again, and it’s a bit of a struggle for both of them to stop smiling long enough to actually press their lips together.

 

Amy lets out a dreamy sigh as they finally deepen the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching to stroke the hair at the back of his head and keep him from pulling away (though he really isn’t trying to) so that she can sink further into him. They’re well-practiced in the art of kissing each other - they were pretty good at it from the start, with first kisses that made Amy incapable of rational thought and rendered Jake completely speechless - and she’s pretty sure she could spend the rest of eternity kissing him.

 

It hits her after a few blissful moments of trying to get as close to each other as possible that she _will_ get to spend the rest of eternity - for ‘as long as they both shall live’, anyways - feeling this excited, this safe, this _happy_.

 

“I love you so much,” she murmurs against his lips, feeling an urgent need to express her feelings but not yet ready to break one of the most perfect kisses of her life.

 

He pulls away a little and pecks her upper lip, gently brushing his nose against hers. “I love _you_ so much.”

 

Moments of utter joy like this one over the past weeks have tended to bring up feelings of fear and panic at how easily all of this could’ve slipped through their fingers if they hadn’t found the diamonds needed to bust Hawkins, if they hadn’t been able to bring he and Rosa home. Right now is so impossibly perfect that Amy can’t help but wonder if she’s dreaming, but Jake’s forehead pressed against hers and his tight grip around her waist ground her to reality for the time being.

 

“I would’ve waited, you know,” she says quietly, reaching up to caress his cheek. “For fifteen years, for however long. It would’ve been worth it for this.”

 

Jake smiles, though his eyes are watery with thick emotion and she feels him hold her a little tighter.

 

“I know, babe,” he responds with another tender kiss. “But we don’t have to wait. I’m back for good, I swear.”

 

She knows it’s an empty promise and her boyfriend - _fiancé,_ now - has no control over the universe, but it makes the faint aching in her chest disappear. She strokes his hair fondly and shifts closer to his warmth.

 

 _“_ I love you, future husband.”

 

He beams back at her with palpable reverence written all over his face, the gaze that she has only ever seen him use when looking at her.

 

“I love you too, future wife.”

 

They lean in for another kiss, still completely unaware of Charles and Rosa standing a few feet away throwing darts or Holt and Terry discussing work at a nearby table or Hitchcock and Scully ordering nachos at the bar.

 

(Everyone else, of course, is completely aware of Jake and Amy full-on making out in the corner, but they decide to cut them some slack tonight.)

 


	9. all i know is a newfound grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 32 A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from everything has changed by taylor swift & ed sheeran!!

Jake has always been full of surprises.

 

Some are unwelcome, like his “Peralta guarantee” that resulted in her having to take him to the ER, or the ants she found in her car weeks after he left a half-eaten candy bar in the glove compartment during a stakeout to “keep it safe” while they chased their perp. Others, however, such as the unexpected acts of kindness and bravery and sometimes even _maturity_ that he’s displayed over the years she’s known him, have caught her so off guard that it took a long time - longer than it should have, really - for her to acknowledge her feelings for him.

 

Over the course of _one evening_ alone, one of their first dates - their fifth, to be exact - she actually loses track of how many times she’s astounded by him.

 

He shows up early, for starters. Jake is rarely on time, she’s grown to expect tardiness, so when he knocks on her door more than ten minutes prior to the agreed upon time - _she_ was ready twenty minutes earlier, of course, but she would be foolish to start holding him to Santiago standards - Amy thinks her ears are deceiving her.

 

He brings flowers. They’re light pink orchids, her favourite, and slightly wilted because he bought them that morning when they caught his eye at a stand on the way to work and he thought of her and he _is_ still Jake, so it makes sense that he didn’t think to put them in water. The sentiment is so sweet that she could not care less about how they look as she puts them in her nicest vase.

 

It’s his turn to pick the restaurant, so she’s fully prepared to spend the evening at the nearest buffet with bottomless chicken fingers. She does very little to hide her affection, stopping to kiss his cheek in the middle of the sidewalk, when he states that he picked a nice, casual Cuban restaurant within walking distance to her place because, according to Jake, she “mentioned that she missed her mom’s cooking” and she “ _is_ always talking about how he should get more exercise.”

 

Throughout dinner, as she watches him nearly cry after they place a bet on who can handle the most hot sauce (winner picks the movie later) and observes the way his eyes light up with genuine interest and adoration as she talks about her day, Amy comes to the most startling revelation thus far: she’s totally falling for him. _Hard._

 

It’s a little intimidating; Amy doesn’t have commitment issues _per se_ , but it’s a little overwhelming to not be able to breathe normally at two o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon because Jake is smiling at her across their desks or have her mind clogged with images of him in her bedroom last night when she’s trying to focus on her paperwork (she’s made _two_ typos this week).

 

Perhaps even more surprising is how incredibly safe and at ease she feels with Jake despite the intense emotional rush. It’s a lot less scary jumping off the deep end when she’s almost certain he’s going to be there to catch her.

 

“That was amazing,” Amy says as they walk out of the restaurant and onto the street, the sky coloured with orange and pink hues as the sun sets over the city. It’s a gorgeous late summer evening, the kind that could only be improved upon by the large amount of tamales in her stomach and the light, fluttering sensation in her chest.

 

Her hand reaches down to tangle her fingers with Jake’s without much of a thought, but it’s still a new enough concept - _them_ , Jake and Amy, _holding hands_ \- that her grip remains loose until he smiles at her and tightens his hold.

 

“I agree. Although, in the future, I probably shouldn’t make bets that I have no chance winning.”

 

She pats his hand reverently. “Yeah, that was a long shot.”

 

“I thought _maybe_ you would cut me some slack out of pity after my eyes started to water, but it appears even my girlfriend will show me no mercy.”

 

The casual usage of the word “girlfriend” delays her response time considerably while she takes a moment to replay it in her brain, but she quickly recovers when she feels him turn to look at her.

 

“Your eyes weren’t watering, Jake, you were straight up crying,” she teases him, gently bumping his arm with hers. “In your defense, it wasn’t really a fair fight.” He looks at her hopefully for a moment, and she shakes her head. “We’re still watching _Harry Potter._ I won fair and square!”

 

He sighs dramatically as they reach her building, his hand slipping out of hers and immediately moving to her back as they walk up the steps. “You did.”

 

Amy smiles to herself at her _boyfriend’s_ \- not partner’s, not colleague’s, not friend’s, _boyfriend’s_ \- antics as she stops at the top of her stoop to rifle through her purse for her keys. Once she’s secured the keychain, she glances up to find Jake gazing at her - a gaze she’s become very well-acquainted with over the past weeks - with his eyes flickering from hers to her lips, his bright smile fading into a serious, fixated expression. Maybe it’s the two margaritas she had with dinner or the fact that she’s felt increasingly secure in their relationship with every passing day thus far, but she doesn’t wait for him to make the next move.

 

Completely indifferent to the dozens of New Yorkers enjoying an evening stroll, Amy rolls up onto her tiptoes, an easier feat with the heels she’s wearing, and presses her lips to his. It’s already an automatic response for her to wrap her arms around his shoulders and his hands to rest on her waist, pulling her closer.

 

He quickly deepens the kiss, angling his head for better access, and she’s once again overwhelmed by the feeling of intoxication that comes with kissing him. It’s very quickly become the only thing she wants to do at any given moment, something she can’t believe she’s missed out on for all these years. It’s dangerous to throw words like “love” and “fate” around this early in a relationship, even in the confines of a journal entry or a phone call with Kylie, but there’s no denying that even her best kisses with Teddy or previous boyfriends never made her feel like this.

 

(Like she’s floating.

 

Like this is _it_ for her.)

 

She melts into him, and an unprecedented urge to pop her foot up in the air like she’s in a movie washes over her. It feels like nothing short of a fairytale when he reaches up with one hand to cup her cheek and they gently pull away, remaining close enough that their noses brush and keeping their eyes closed, neither of them ready to burst the bubble of passion and intense emotion that’s enveloped them.

 

“Wow,” she whispers, worried that speaking too loudly will disrupt the tranquility of the moment. She slowly draws away from him as her eyes flutter open, and he comes to the surface a moment later, his grip on her waist loosening slightly. “That was, um…”

 

Jake lets out a breathy laugh, his eyes shining with raw affection as he takes in the similar smile gracing her face. “…Yeah.”

 

She’s positive she could stay here until morning as long as she gets to keep kissing him, but a cool breeze sends goosebumps up her body. He immediately detects her shivering and responds by rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms. It’s such a natural response that she can’t help but wonder how many times he’s watched her complain about being cold before, how many times he’s stopped himself from trying to warm her up.

 

“Should we go inside?”

 

She nods, unlocking the door and reaching out behind her to take his hand and lead him in.

 

About halfway through _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ , while curled up on the couch with her head on Jake’s shoulder and laughing softly as he imitates the characters with varying degrees of horrible English accents, she realizes she shouldn’t be surprised at all. Some small part of her, though she repressed and fought and ignored it for as long as possible, has been falling for this idiot since the day she met him.


	10. your love is bright as ever, even in the shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 36\. Starting with eskimo kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cuddles on january 6th aka the coldest night of the year aka amy's favourite moment of their relationship :')))
> 
> title from xo by beyonce (luv the john mayer cover tho)

Six days into the new year, Jake wakes at an ungodly hour to the feeling of arms wrapping around him from behind and warm breaths tickling the back of his neck.

 

It’s been six days since they threw their first New Year’s Eve party as a married couple, complete with gold streamers and champagne flutes and fireworks to be seen from their window over the Manhattan skyline.

 

It’s been six incredible, glorious days spent mostly indoors to avoid the cold, both of them taking the entire week off after being forced to work through most of the holidays - crime does not take a break on Christmas, much to Amy’s dismay (Jake is... _less_ than upset that they miss the Santiago family Christmas to work an awesome drug case, but he tries not to let it show).

 

Much of this week off has consisted of drinking hot chocolate, watching movies in pajamas and obscene amounts of cuddling. It’s the most time they’ve had the privilege of spending together since their honeymoon, and he’s savoured every moment.

 

The ring of their alarm clock in less than five hours and their reluctant return to work are looming, but Jake turns to face his wife with the faint hope that she’s awake and not just burrowing into him in sleep as she often does. He’s desperate for just a few more minutes of their cocooned vacation bliss before their return to reality.

 

Her eyes are open and full of raw adoration when he rolls over, her arms remaining around him. He returns the loving gaze and slides his hand around her back and under her worn-out t-shirt, his nails lightly scratching her skin until she breathes a sigh of contentment.

 

“Hey,” he murmurs with a gravelly, sleep-heavy whisper. “You warm enough?”

 

She fell asleep earlier than him tonight, wanting to get sufficient rest for their first day back, and couldn’t resist taking a break from playing games on his phone to climb out of bed and grab a warm pair of socks for her feet after seeing his wife shivering slightly right beside him. His body temperature is always a little higher than hers, it seems, but even he can feel the wrath of winter at its peak just outside their window.

 

She’s beaming at him now, and though he can’t quite ascertain why she’s looking at him like he hung the moon and stars and maybe the entire solar system, it’s certainly a welcome sight. “Yeah, I’m good.”

 

Jake nods, satisfied with the knowledge that she’s comfortable, and shifts marginally closer to her.

 

“It’s freezing out there.”

 

“Coldest night of this winter so far, according to the news this morning,” Amy supplements, squeezing his torso. “Good thing my husband is like a personal heater.”

 

Jake feels a surge of warmth in his chest - he does every time she calls him her husband, still in utter disbelief and awe that out of all the people in the world she’s chosen to be with and love _him_ forever. He’s hardly the philosophical type, but he _knows_ he must have done something right in a past life to deserve this.

 

“It’s one of my many amazing talents,” Jake sighs, grinning to himself.

 

“I don’t know if I would say _many_...”

 

He looks down at her teasing grin and shakes his head, smirking as he prepares a rebuttal.

 

“I don’t think you felt that way on New Year’s after our guests left.” A slight blush creeps into her cheeks as she fondly recalls the night. “Or the other day on the couch, or this morning in the shower-”

 

“ _Fine_ , I take it back.”

 

She’s laughing now, so close to him that their noses touch. He brushes his nose against hers, making her laughter taper off into soft giggles of contentment. She presses her lips gently to his after a moment, and they fall into a blissful silence as they continue to kiss softly in the dark. He guides her on top of him without escalating the intensity of the kisses, his hands settling on her back.

 

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” Jake says after pulling away with a soft groan.

 

Amy furrows her eyebrows. “You love work.”

 

“Yeah, but I love cuddling in bed with you and watching movies all day and ordering takeout for every meal so we don’t have to go outside significantly more.”

 

She smiles reverently, cupping his face from where she hovers slightly above him and leaning down for another quick peck. “I could get on board with that.”

 

“Although I’m pretty sure you would get bored of me eventually.”

 

“Not possible, Peralta,” she says with an eye roll overpowered by the cheesy grin that’s spread across her face.

 

This time, he hides _his_ rosy cheeks by burying his face in her neck as she settles back into his side. They don’t always sleep this close, but there have been a fair number of nights between the beginning of their relationship and now that they’ve huddled together, either for warmth or out of sheer refusal to let the other go throughout the night. After he returned from Florida and prison, she maintained physical contact with him each day for as close to twenty-four hours as life and work would permit.

 

“It’s gonna be a really good year,” she hums against his chest once they’re half-asleep again.

 

She said the same thing roughly a year ago, when they were still engaged and prison still haunted his recent memory, and though he was reluctant to indulge himself in the possibility of a perfect year after the torture the last few had put them through, she was as right as she is about nearly everything. The mere fact that he married Amy Santiago last year makes it the best one of his life thus far, but compared to many others in his past it was, on all fronts, relatively free of conflict and hardship.

 

So, this time, it’s a bit easier for him to believe her. He’d be willing to bet, in fact, that every year he gets to be married to her is going to be just as full of love and joy and excitement as their first.

 

“I think so too,” he murmurs with a kiss laid on top of her head. “Love you.”

 

She smiles confidently as she says “I love you more,” the element of competition not wavering in their relationship even in the moments bursting with raw affection, and Jake is reminded of his beautiful, intelligent partner who annoyed him daily, was the only one to ever challenge his status as the best detective at the precinct, and for whom he fell harder than he’d ever dreamt of falling before. The woman that is now, and has been for longer than he realized, the best thing that’s happened to him in thirty-eight years on this earth. The person he’s going to spend every day he has left with if he has any say in the matter.

 

He smiles back at her and says with more certainty than he’s ever said anything in his life:

 

“Not possible, Santiago.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm peraltasames on tumblr if u wanna chat!!


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